


Renewed Shall Be the Blade that Was Broken

by SunandShadowBoth



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, BAMF Everyone pretty much, BAMF Ori, Bofur's kind of a little shit, Eventually BAMF Bilbo, F/M, Hell they all kind of are, I pretend like I know science, Let's hope its not too terribly misused, Loosely based on the Maximum Ride series, M/M, Manipulation of Genetics, Mutant Powers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, Thilbo, bagginshield, everyone is human, sick dwarves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3665187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunandShadowBoth/pseuds/SunandShadowBoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belladonna Baggins was successful in saving her child from the slowly corrupting head of Erebor Inc. 40 years ago.<br/>Now, it's been 20 years since Smaug officially took over the genetics laboratory and Thorin Durin plus his company of genetic mutants are looking to take back what belongs to them.<br/>And it just so happens that they need a fellow named Bilbo to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is written much more in my normal writing style compared to things I've posted on this site in the past, so hopefully it's a bit (a lot) better written. I'm planning on adding pairings in based on what people request, so please comment with what you would like to see (which will be easier when the company etc. is introduced obviously). Only pairings I don't really like writing are incest, but otherwise lemme know! This is a short introduction, but subsequent chapters will be longer. :) I have this fic all planned out, so hopefully updates will be somewhat regular.

**40 years earlier:**

She swept her dark hair into a ponytail as she hurried down the hallway, her lab coat flapping with the briskness of her walk. Only a few more steps. And she’d be there.

Except the easy part was getting in, she had the passcode, the clearance, the right to be there- leaving, though. Leaving was the problem.

She stopped in front of the door, sliding her key card through the lock. The light flashed red.

Confusion flickered across her reflection in the glass as she tried again, only to be met with the same result.

“Having some troubles, my dear?”

The gravelly voice made her jump in surprise, “What?”

“I asked if you were having some troubles with your keycard, Bella,” Gandalf questioned, looming over her substantially shorter stature.

“Why, yes. I am actually. Would you be able to help me out?” she tried to keep her voice as steady as she could, making sure not to meet the older man’s eye in case he saw right through her.

“Anything for you, Mrs. Baggins,” he grinned, swiping his entrance pass.

The light flared green.

Belladonna let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

“Here to see Bilbo?” Gandalf asked kindly, “I was actually coming to do the same.”

 _No!_ she screamed in her head, trying not to let it show on the exterior, _keep your hands off my son!_

Instead, she answered in a completely even tone that she was surprised and proud to hear, “Mhm. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, so I thought he might be missing me.”

She restrained herself from simply running to the crib, scooping Bilbo out and bolting for the door.

Barely.

With slow and measured steps, she made it over to her child. _Hands on the edge of the cradle, slowly, slowly now, else you’ll wake him and they’ll get suspicious…_

“They know your plan,” Gandalf whispered, and she wouldn’t have heard him at all if he hadn’t been leaning over the bed as well, pretending to examine the baby inside.

“They-” she glanced up, startled.

His gray eyes were completely serious, deadly serious, how did they know?!

“Please-” she started, but Gandalf simply picked up Bilbo, cradling the boy in his cloaked arms.

“Take the back exit, they’re less attentive there. I’ll find you somewhere along the way, but don’t wait for me. I’ve stashed a bag of things you’ll need just outside the doorway, tuck Bilbo inside and you have a chance,” he spoke as if he were telling her the specials in the cafeteria that day, all casual and just, well, normal.

 _How does he do that?_ Bella’s scientific mind wondered.

Instead of asking, she mutely stuck out her arms to receive her offered son, clutching him close to her chest.

Everything blurred with the speed and urgency of her movements. She was in the room one minute, fumbling with the zipper of the pack the next, and then she was at the gate.

“Ma’am, we need to check your bag,” the guard was reaching for the strap of her bag when she finally snapped to awareness.

“No!” she exclaimed, recoiling.

The man stared at her for a moment before his expression hardened, “Mrs. Baggins, I need you to open your bag for me.”

“I mean, no, don’t touch it, I can do it myself,” she babbled, “I don’t really like having people take things from me like that, it’s rather disconcerting.”

She set the duffel on the cold metal table, letting the other official pull it closer to himself.

_They were going to find him._

“Be careful with that please,” her attempt at nonchalance failed.

The zipper slowly slid open and Belladonna’s heart leapt into her throat.

They were going to find him and they were going to both be dead. _Please, Bilbo, stay silent, be quiet, please, but they’ll see him, they’ll_ see _him._

The guard flung open the flap, just as surprised as Bella to find that there was nothing but a pile of blankets and the various items that Gandalf had packed for travel inside.

“Looks like you’re all good Ma’am. Just don’t resist us next time! I don’t know what you thought you had to worry about Mrs. Baggins,” the guard, whose name she vaguely recalled as being Jerry, handed the bag back to her.

Her throat was tight as she gingerly slung it back over her shoulder, “Thank you sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That you will! Have a great rest of your day!” he called as she rushed out, the bright glare of the sun making her wince.

She didn’t respond to him as she practically ran to her vehicle, sliding the duffel into the back of her little blue car. Her lab coat came off next, revealing the green dress she’d picked specifically for it’s plainness.

Bella climbed into the driver's seat, and after calling Bungo to let him know she was "done with work", she opened the bag.

Bilbo was staring up at her with his hazel eyes wide and innocent.

“You. Are. One. Scary. Child,” she punctuated each of her words with a poke to his belly.

He just gurgled in response, a wide smile on his chubby little face.

 


	2. Thorin and Dwalin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of another introductionish type thing.  
> Ages: Thorin-43; Dis-42; Fili-21; Kili-20  
> The rest of the ages to follow depending upon who is in the chapter. :)

Chapter Two:

_-Have the car ready-_

Thorin quick shot a text to Dwalin, hands clammy. He straightened the collar of his ragged suit jacket, wiping some spare crumbs off the tee-shirt he wore underneath. Breakfast had been a rushed affair in the dark, stuffing his face full of the strawberry Pop Tarts he kept in his bedside drawer just for occasions like this.

If his friend wasn’t here in the next ten minutes, he was going to have to sneak out the window.

_Dwalin: -There in five. Be ready-_

He grinned, thumbing the power button to get rid of the light. He’d packed his bag the night before and left it at the Fundinson’s, so that wouldn’t be any trouble. It was just the small matter of getting out the front door…

The entrance to his bedroom opened with a soft snick noise that made him wince. Luckily, the hallway was all soft carpet that he’d laid in himself, and he knew each and every squeaky spot.

His eyes adjusted easily in the darkness as he made his way into the kitchen, hands skimming the walls ever so slightly to maintain balance.

He was almost home free when he decided to stop for a quick glass of water.

Thorin knew he should keep moving, knew it was too risky, but he couldn’t help it. He was thirsty damn it, and being so quiet. Dwalin wouldn’t be there for another minute at least, he had plenty of time.

He was in the middle of filling the glass, ever so slowly and with the least amount of water pressure possible when he heard the creak of someone in the hallway.

 _No, no, no_ , he set the cup down and shut off the faucet, hoping he could make it out of the room before whoever it was stepped inside-

The light flicked on and brown bleary eyes met his for a moment before they widened with a wordless shout.

“Wait!” was all he got out before a furious gust of wind slammed into his torso, knocking the breath out of him.

He wheezed desperately, barely managing to stay upright by clutching the counter.

“Oh shit, Uncle Thorin?” Kíli, looking much more alert, rushed over to help him stand, “I didn’t realize it was you!”

“Obviously not,” Thorin panted, “But I have to go, Dwalin is-”

“Kíli? What happened?” a female voice came from the other side of the room, “What’s wrong with my brother?”

“I thought he’d broken in, I didn’t know!” Kíli said defensively, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he gave his mother a pleading look.

“What did I say about asking questions first?”

“To… not?”

“Exactly. You don’t have to apologize for defending yourself, especially since your uncle was trying to sneak out without saying goodbye again.”

Kíli looked relieved; Thorin on the other hand, was anything but, “Dís, Dwalin’s waiting for me-”

“Something I’m well aware of. His loud engine woke me up the moment he pulled into the driveway. I expected more from you, Thorin. Especially if you think you’re leaving the house wearing that.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he glanced down at his comfy jeans, dress shoes, gray undershirt and the only black suit jacket he owned that didn’t have a hole in the elbow, “I’m just meeting Dain.”

“You look like a homeless person. And you're seeing that Bilbo fellow later. We need him, lest you’ve forgotten. You have to make a good impression,” she reprimanded, padding over to him in her classy pale pink nightgown, “God, is this Fíli’s shirt?”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to get defensive, “I don’t know! It was mixed up in my laundry so I just assumed. We’re all the same size anyway-”

“Fíli says you’ve got broader shoulders and if you stretch out his favorite tee he’s not speaking to you for a week,” Kíli relayed, sitting on the counter nonchalantly.

“Speaking of your brother, why isn’t he out here?” Thorin not so subtly changed the subject.

“He’s trying to decide if it’s worth getting out from under the warm covers to see you yelled at.”

The sound of a door opening down the hall made Kíli’s smile widen and Fíli slouched into the room without a shirt, rubbing his eyes, “Totally worth it.”

“I’m glad you three are awake to send me off, but Dain is waiting-”

“To help you save face and time, we’ll compromise. You can wear this to meet our cousin, but as soon as you leave to meet this Boggins fellow, or whatever his name is, you’re going to change into the clothes I hung on the rack by the front door. I bought them for you yesterday, and I’ve trained these boys well enough that they will betray you to me at a moments notice, so if you show up to that house without a suit on, I'll know,” Dís gave him a threatening glare.

“It’s true,” Fíli supplied with a yawn.

Shivers spiraled up and down Thorin’s spine, “Fine.”

Her gaze softened, “Now give me a hug you useless lump, I’ll see you in a few months. I’ll make sure the boys get to the appointed house on time, just don’t get lost too lost, okay?”

Thorin pulled his substantially shorter sibling into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head, “I’ll try my best.”

“And do try to at least write every once in a while if it’s not too dangerous, okay?”

“Of course,” he squeezed tighter just before letting go, “I’ll see you two later tonight.”

Fíli and Kíli nodded in response, Kíli already stuffing his face with a piece of toast he’d gotten from God only knew where.

He snagged the suit and tie off the hook as he rushed out, hopping into Dwalin’s truck with as much speed as he was able.

When Dwalin gave him a quizzical look, he shook his head, “The family woke up. Now hurry before Dís gets over her anger at my outfit and realizes I stole her portable DVD player.”

The younger man’s eyes widened and he floored it out of the driveway.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment with pairings you would want to see in the future etc. and keep in mind that I'm posting this on FF.net as well, so I'm going to try to make people on both sites happy. That means there might be some extra chapters posted here that contain the pairings etc. that won't be included in the "main" story line per-say, so there wouldn't be much plot development in those chapters. There'd also be things that could be taken as either friendship or slash in the main chapters, so it'll all depend on if you read those extra chapters or not. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be including Bagginshield but haven't for sure decided!


	3. Bilbo and Dain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd, so sorry if there are mistakes, etc. We're getting started with the revealing what the company was doing on their way to Bilbo's. Kudos, comments etc. much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

_“But Mother-” he begged, trying to get passed her to the door._

_“You can’t go out Bilbo. You’re sick, don’t you remember? Don’t you worry, Gandalf will be back to help you out soon enough,” she patted his head, pushing him behind her as the entrance to their home slammed shut in his face._

_“But-”_

_“No Bilbo,” Belladonna reprimanded, barely giving him another glance as she hurried into the kitchen._

_“I just want to play with the other kids!” he finally yelled, letting all his frustration bubble over._

_“But you’re not like the other children, my son,” Bungo stepped out of the pantry, the bullet hole in his chest gaping and bleeding onto the stone floor, “Now be good and mind your mother, or you’ll get her killed just like you did me.”_

Bilbo woke with a start, his chest heaving as he stared at the blank ceiling.

He forced himself upright, smacking his lips against the dryness of his mouth.

 _Water,_ his gradually restarting brain filled in, _you need water._

Yes. Okay.

Water.

He pushed the bed covers back , letting the soft material slip through his fingers just like he wished the dream would from his memory. 

Maybe he’d go into work early today. Bell wasn’t expecting him until ten, but this was one of those mornings on which one does not desire a long lonely couple of hours sipping tea on the porch.

By the time he’d made it to the kitchen and finished his first glass of water, the cobwebs were gone from his mind.

Which meant he could think clearly enough to stare at the time and groan internally. Well, and externally, but if nobody's around to hear it, is there actually a sound?

It was only six am. Only six-

For the love of Yavanna, this was going to be a long morning.

He turned on his electronic teapot, the one that would automatically turn to warm after the 10 minutes he set the timer for. It was a quick reach into the lowest shelf of his cupboard to locate the blend of leaves that Gandalf had prepared especially for him, their sweet scent instantly calming him.

After his breakfast was prepped, he passed from the pale brown tile of his kitchen floor to the warm green color of the hallway and bathroom.

It took him maybe a half hour to shower and shave, padding back towards the prospect of a warm drink in his bathrobe.

And twenty minutes later, he was done with that, staring down at his empty cup with what he knew must have been a dejected expression.

“Well,” he said for no reason in particular.

“I’m going to work,” he informed no one.

Bilbo chuckled to himself as he pushed away from the table, the scraping of his chair loud in the silence, “Silly me. What was I thinking?! I’ve got to get dressed first.”

There was no response.

He heaved a sigh that went unnoticed as he trudged off to his room.

 

* * *

 

“Dain,” Thorin sighed, kneading his forehead with too firm of fingertips, “We could really use your help on this.”

His cousin leaned against the kitchen counter, facing away from him, “I understand that. But I managed to find jobs in the Iron Hills corporation for most of your people when Erebor went under-”

“Was stolen, Dain.”

“Stolen. Yes. Taken. Whatever you want to call it. But this Smaug fellow has it now, and it’s turned into a nut house. I can’t risk my family Thorin.”

“We’d do anything in our power to make sure they’re safe-”

“You can barely protect yourself!” Dain roared, his frustration and exasperation with the situation bleeding into anger, “How many times have you had to move to try to protect those boys of yours? How many times have you scrambled just to get the simplest of medicines for them, let alone the ones they really need? I don’t want my son… my son has a life here. We’ve established ourselves. I can’t risk everything to help you on a fool’s errand. When you’ve managed to even get yourself inside the place… then, and only then, we’ll talk.”

“That’s why we’re doing this, for our families, for our-”

“No. I said no. End of the conversation. I hate to be like this cousin, especially considering your motives, but you can see your way out.”

And just like that it was over.

Thorin resisted the urge to slam his fist against the table as he left.

He stood outside the quaint little home, nothing like the places he’d lived in since Erebor fell. Their latest house wasn’t bad- there’d been places for Dis to hang their few family pictures, plenty of shelf space and even separate rooms for the boys, but it was still nothing like _this._

This place with air full of children’s laughter and the smell of freshly cut lawns.

He slipped his hands into his pockets, muttering a soft curse word as he angrily kicked a rock off the sidewalk.

Yeah. That’d show them.

A huff of air escaped his lips at his own stupidity.

He knew from the beginning that Dain was a long shot. Why he’d gotten his hopes up was beyond him - their entire "quest" was doomed before it even started. He shouldn't be considering roping in another innocent. This Bilbo fellow...

Thorin squinted up at the sun, wishing he’d brought a pair of shades with him.

And for some reason, it was that thought that sent him on his way, resigned to changing into his suit in some gas station along the walk to Baggin’s house.

His wasn’t a glamorous life, that was for sure.

All the more reason for his renewed determination.  


	4. Dwalin and the Bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revamping this a bit... you may have noticed that I deleted two chapters. Those will come back in some form, but I didn't like the way they were written, so here's something that's hopefully a little better. Thanks for reading! Unbeta'd so if there's any mistakes etc. let me know!

Dwalin glared at the mirrors above the bartender's head, hating the way it gave him a clear view of… well, himself.

However, it meant he could also see everyone else in the bar, so he continued to stare, wishing he’d thought to wear a better hood.

Once he deemed the place safe, he ordered a whiskey on the rocks, taking a gulp of the amber liquid nearly as soon as the glass hit his outstretched fingers.

He was hoping he wouldn’t have to wait long, but after at least twenty minutes of nursing the melted ice and alcohol medley at the bottom of his glass, he began to wonder if Balin would show at all.

It wasn’t until he finally broke down and ordered a second drink that he began to notice the atmosphere in the bar had changed.

He wasn’t sure if he’d been followed, or if it was just coincidence, but there was definitely a small crew of thugs watching him from the darkest corner in the place.

Figures. They had to be cliche.

He gripped his glass tighter.

Come on Balin. Where the hell are you?

Maybe he was just being paranoid.

He chanced another look back at the four of them, and sure enough, all were focused right on him.

“Well, that settles it then, doesn’t it?” Dwalin growled to no one in particular.

He got more than one strange look from that, but he hardly even noticed those anymore.

Not since he was nineteen-

He cut off the thought before it could go further, stretching his muscles as he stepped away from the bar.

Immediately the men in the back stood, muttering things to each other as they pushed and shoved their way towards the exit.

He gave them exactly 15 steps outside before he turned, greeting them with a grim smile.

Their chatter stopped immediately.

“Hello boys,” Dwalin snarled in his most sarcastic british accent.

… Maybe Fili and Kili were right. He’d binged watched way too much Supernatural.

He barely had time to finish that thought before there was a punch being directed towards his face.

Like always, he had to resist the urge to dodge and let the blow land directly on his left temple.

The guy let out a high pitched shriek of pain as the bones in his hands gave a satisfying crunch.

Dwalin threw back his hood, revealing the glint of metal that made up half his body, “Might want to do your research next time guys.”

He thrust his left fist into the stomach of the first attacker, hardening the metal of his fingers into points. The man collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as he bled out from five puncture wounds to the chest. He had a chance of surviving, if someone called an ambulance quickly enough. Did Dwalin much care either way?

Not particularly.

One of the remaining men decided he’d had enough and took off.

The other two, unfortunately for them, were not so smart.

Dwalin feinted an uppercut, instead sweeping the legs out from under the fellow with bright red hair. The man, who had to be at least 6’3”, landed with a loud thud, one repeated when he had a steel toed boot slammed into his side.

His last attacker came at him from behind, but instead of the having the element of surprise, he received a metallic hand around his throat for his troubles.

One light brown eye met his attackers panicked gaze, while the other vacantly stared off into the distance, nothing more than a glass orb, “Would you like to die? Or take a message back to your employer?”

The man made an odd squeaking noise.

“Right. Can’t talk with me crushing your throat, now can you?”

He released his hold, letting this poor excuse for an assassin crumple the the ground.

“Message!” the guy finally croaked, crawling away from Dwalin and his redheaded companion.

“Next time your boss decides to attack me outside a bar,” he paused, narrowly avoiding the energy bolt shot from behind (how did he not notice one of them had a gun?), “send an army.”

He whipped around, kicking the guy in the side of the neck so hard that his spine snapped.

When he turned, he was alone except for the dead and the nearly there.

“Fuck this,” he muttered.

Screw waiting for Balin.

He was going to this Bilbo fellows to wait for everyone there.

He’d had enough of the public for one day


	5. Balin, Fili and Kili

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting rolling with some basic introduction type chapters, and then we'll be at Bilbo's house soon enough! Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated :)

Balin stared at the desk in front of him with a growing sense of dread.

There was just so much he had to do, so much he had to cover- what to take with? What to burn? They had to make sure no one knew where they were headed, had to make sure that no one would find out their plans…

And here everything was. If anyone wanted to know anything about any of them, all they had to do was rifle through his drawers.

He went to ask Ori for some help carrying a few of the boxes before he realized that he’d sent the boy home over an hour ago.

Maybe that was for the best.

He sighed, running stiff fingers through his long white hair. He’d meant to get it trimmed, but time had  gone by so quickly once Thorin called them together.

Well, there was nothing for it. All their records, everything about their past, it all had to go.

Most of it was backed up in the Arkenstone file, so if- when they reclaimed Erebor, they’d have proof of who they were.

Erebor. He just hoped everything they were doing was worth it. He knew what lie there, knew why Thorin wanted to reclaim it so badly, but they were risking everything on this one chance.

And even though he had his doubts, he tossed the first fistfull of papers into the fire, gazing blankly at the gap toothed smile on Frerin’s’ face as the picture on his file burned.

Only 6 more boxes to go. He’d probably be late meeting Dwalin, but somehow, watching the disintegrating papers, that didn’t matter.

\----------------------------------------------

“You brought your inhaler, right?” Fili asked, rummaging through the satchel on his lap.

“Yes. Haven’t needed it in years and yet mom practically brained me for trying to throw it away,” the brunette in the passenger’s seat glanced nervously at the road, “Fee-”

“Damn it, I can’t find the peanuts I swear mom packed-”

The car swerved over the center lane, almost hitting an oncoming vehicle.

Fili jerked upright, grabbing the wheel to right their course.

“Jesus! Just because you don’t actually need your hands to drive doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay attention to the road!” Kili yelped.

“I’m sorry! You find the freaking food then!” the blonde threw the bag, spilling its contents onto the floor.

“Oh for the love of- How much longer until we get there?” the brunette bent over, searching for the items that had fallen under the seat, “I found them, sheesh.”

Fili snatched the peanuts from his outstretched hand, “Probably another half hour yet, maybe more.”

“It’s getting dark. I told you we left too late.”

“No we didn’t. We’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you said last time and we got lost, had to call Thorin for directions and yeah, that totally turned out well.”

“We were fine.”

“That guy broke my arm! And you passed out after using too much and I had to carry you back to the car, which was out of gas, _and Thorin got lost trying to find us_! How do you not remember this?”

“Oh… that time,” Fili shrugged.

“Yeah. That time,” Kili sat back in his seat with a huff.

“Well, it’s not going to happen again, so just relax. Hows the new tattoo looking?”

“Don’t change the subject,” the brunette glared, “... Fine. It looks great, hardly itches.”

“Thorin’s going to kill you.”

“Like he’ll even notice. It’s right next to the other one on my arm, he’ll probably think it’s the same one. Can you just focus on driving please? I would like to get there sometime today.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“We do have all the food and things that were on our list, right? Thorin really will kill us if we don’t have everything.”

Fili checked the rearview mirror, carefully surveying the back seat, “Yeah. We do. Now lets just hope we don’t get pulled over.”

Kili raised an eyebrow, “Oh and what would be the best way to do that? I dunno, maybe if you _actually drove correctly_.”

“Shut up. We’ll be there soon and you can stretch. Then maybe you’ll stop being so cranky.”

“Me? Cranky? Never,” the brunette turned up the AC, “Put some music on and I’ll be in the best mood of my life.”

Fili snorted, but complied, rolling his eyes as his little brother began to sing along with the newest Disturbed album.


	6. The Brother's Ri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's ages, just for future reference are: Thorin 43, Dis 42, Oin 49, Gloin 44, Bifur 47, Bofur 38, Bombur 37, Balin 50, Dwalin 42, Dori 46, Nori 39, Ori 22, Fili 21, Kili 20, Bilbo 40.
> 
> These might change later, but not by much. I just keep tweaking them.

How old was the younger Durin boy? He had to be at least 21 by now.

“And the age on this one?” the shady looking fellow in front of him croaked, a cigarette perched between his lips.

“Just go with 21. Or 22. Whatever suits your fancy,” Nori handed him the picture of Kili that Thorin had sent.

“How many more of these have you got to go? I must’ve done 30 already!” the man grumbled, turning towards his printer as it scanned in the image.

“Mate, I told you there were going to be a lot. If you’ve got a problem with that, I’ll just take the rest of my business elsewhere,” he hefted his bag of cash over his shoulder, squinting in the dim lighting, “Just give me what you’ve got done and I’ll give you the right payment.”

“No, no,” Hickory grunted, his grubby fingers twitching with a touch of anxiety, “That’s fine. We’re fine.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “Okay, but really, how many more are left?”

Nori flipped through the stack of Id’s in front of him, mentally counting.

_A passport for each of them, ID’s with fake names, ID’s with real names, but fake ages and information… Here’s little Ori’s, Fili’s, Dori’s, Dwalin-_

“I think I only need a couple extra for myself just in case and then we’re good to go,” Nori gave his friend a grin, one that was not returned.

“Good. You’d better not come around here for a while after this,” Hickory ran his fingers through his greasy hair, giving the ginger man a shifty glance, “With this amount of fake IDs, you’d better be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” Nori smirked.

“No,” the felon deadpanned.

“Ye of so little faith,” Nori rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter, the smell of ink wafting towards him as another ID finished, “Trust me, I’ll be long gone. Probably never have to see my wonderful face ever again.”

“Thank the gods,” Hickory placed the freshly laminated item on the filthy counter, “This money better be worth it.”

“Oh my silly friend… the money is always worth it.”

\----------------------------------------------------

 

“I’m home!” Ori called as the door slammed behind him.

“Good! Then you can help me pack!” Dori answered from somewhere upstairs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a second!” the ginger boy wandered into the kitchen, snatching a cookie off the baking tray as he opened the fridge.

“Those cookies are for on the road Ori, you’d better not eat them all at once!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered under his breath, snatching a container of orange juice off the bottom shelf, taking a swig right out of the bottle.

“Careful of the suitcase on the stairs!” Dori yelled.

“I’m not blind Dori!”

“Have you forgotten how accident prone you are?”

“Oh for the love of-” Ori sighed, “You’re right, I’ll be careful.”

“That’s all I ask.”

The ginger closed the door with his hip, munching on the chocolate chip deliciousness as he made his way towards the sound of his brother’s voice.

“Dor? Where are you?”

“In your room.”

“Why the hell are you in there?!” Ori practically punched his way into his living space, appalled to find Dori folding his underwear.

“I thought you switched to boxers years ago,” Dori shook his head, “Who would have guessed.”

“... I can’t believe you,” the youngest Rison brother covered his face with his hands, “I’m 22 years old  Dori, I can pack my own clothing. Do you have _any_ sense of _privacy_?!”

“You were at work. We need to leave as soon as possible. Therefore I’m helping you pack, since you seem to have been too busy to do it before now.”

The floor creaked as he stepped inside, carefully prying a pair of socks from Dori’s grasp, “I can finish here. Why don’t you start loading the car? Then we’ll be able to pick Nori up on the way to Mr. Baggin’s house.”

“I know when I’m being gotten rid of, but you have a point. Just… be careful.” the elder stood, wincing as the metal bedframe protested, “I’ll be back to help you carry your stuff downstairs. How are you feeling today?”

He was tired, so tired, but Dori didn’t need to know that.

“Fine. Probably just going to end up napping in the car.”

The gray haired man’s expression softened, “Alright. I’ll make sure Nori’s got his headphones. You know how he is if he doesn’t have music on long car rides.”

“Thanks Dor,” Ori gave a reassuring half smile to his older brother, “I’ll be ready in a minute. I’ll call when I need you?”

“And I’ll be waiting!” Dori responded, making his way down the stairs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos very much appreciated! :) Unbeta'd so if you see any mistakes, please let me know!


	7. Gloin and Oin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is placed in the future/and AU with advanced medicine and genetics, obviously. So the medications and things are more advanced than we have. :)

Gloin eyed the woman behind the counter, unsure of how to approach the situation.

This was his bank, he owned it, and yet, he was closing out his account and disappearing for a few months.

He didn’t want to cause panic, that wouldn’t do at all, his stock value might drop and he couldn’t have that now could he?

He pulled on his collar, letting a puff of air circulate down his buttoned top. Alright. No more putting it off.

“Hello Quinn. If you could please withdraw this amount from my savings?” he slid the bank slip to her across the counter.

Quinn gave him a hesitant smile, “Mr. Groinson, that’s everything you have in there… are you sure you want to empty your account?”

“I’m going on vacation, you remember?” Gloin played it cool, trying to pretend like there wasn’t sweat trickling down the back of his neck, “My wife has expensive taste. She’s been going on and on about some pearls she’s been wanting, so I figured, might as well get them while we’re abroad, you know what I mean?”

Quinn’s expression softened, “You’re a very good husband, Mr. Groinson.”

“Gloin,” he said after a moment’s pause.

“Hmm?” she glanced up from her computer screen.

“You can call me Gloin.”

“Gloin Groinson?” she blinked.

“I know, my parents hated me. My older brother’s name is Oin.”

“Oin Groinson. Interesting,” she snatched a pen out of the holder on her desk, “Just sign here please.”

“Thanks,” he muttered as he scribbled his name, “I’ll take that in 20’s, if we have enough.”

Quinn paled, “Uh. Let me go see if we have more in another drawer. Do you have a minute?”

“Take your time,” he smiled, “I’m in no rush.”

The sweat from his neck worked its way down his back.

_Not in a rush. Ha. You fool._

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

 

Oin poked his head around the corner, relief rushing through him when he realized the hallway was empty.

 _Camera in top left, careful to stick along the wall,_ he reminded himself as he kept to the shadows, inching towards the drug store room.

 _Just a bit further now_.

The hallway was stark white, with florescent lighting that flickered to a steady rhythm. It unnerved Oin as he stared down it, the gap between him and the door yawning to an impossible distance.

_Damn it Thorin, I’m a doctor, not a thief!_

He took a deep breath, then hurried forward, punching in the code with shaking fingers.

The entryway opened with a hiss.

He ducked inside, careful to press his back against the smooth surface of the wall behind him. He had maybe 30 seconds to grab everything they needed and get out when the camera finally spotted him.

_Antibiotics, insulin for Fili, where’s the meds for Bofur’s throat cancer…? Ah, here, need this for Ori… Is it Thorin that’s blood type A positive, or Dis?_

He shoved everything into his large duffle, covering it with his gym clothes as soon as he thought he had everything.

_This’ll have to do._

With any luck, no one would even notice things missing until Oin was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I finish introducing everyone, I'm probably going to combine them all into one chapter to make it more reader friendly.


	8. The Brother's Ur

“Did you get all 20 packages of hot dog buns like I ordered?” Bombur surveyed the incoming boxes, keeping a sharp eye on the amounts.

The delivery driver shrugged, “Probably. I didn’t load the truck.”

_Helpful, so helpful._

“Well, I guess you’re going to have to stay until I count all of these, now aren’t you?” the ginger man growled, glaring at the young man.

He sighed, “Your satisfaction is guaranteed.”

After the 40 boxes were unloaded, true to his word, Bombur went through each of them, making sure every item on the order sheet was in place. By the time he was done, the driver was half asleep in the passenger’s seat, staring at nothing.

“You’re good to go,” Bombur dismissed him, “And next time, maybe pay more attention to what’s going on around you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the kid slid over behind the wheel, “Have a good day Mr. Yurson.”

“You too Steven.”

The young man had been making deliveries to Bombur’s restaurant for years, and he still somehow never managed to have any idea what was going on.

He loaded what he could into the back of his truck, trusting his employees to keep an eye on the rest until Bofur came to pick it up. He was headed home- there were 6 little ones there he had to say goodbye to.

When he pulled into the driveway, they were all standing there, his wife gripping the youngest’s hand tightly in her own, “I know you can’t stay long, so I thought I’d bring them out here for you.”

“Thank you darling,” Bombur kissed her cheek, kneeling down to reach his children.

He was going to miss this.

 

______________________________________________________________________

 

“Bif, we’ve already been here long enough,” Bofur whispered, scratching the back of his neck as the one eyed dealer crossed his arms over his chest, “We’ve got plenty for each of us.”

 _Yes, but I think I can get that knife for a low price. It would be perfect for a new recruit to practice with_ , Bifur signed, managing a neutral expression on his face despite the excitement of his hands. 

 _Fine. That’s the last one._ Bofur responded, careful to keep out of sight of the arms dealer. It wasn’t unusual for someone in the black market to learn the languages of their customers just to keep up, and Bifur was a regular here.

“We’ll take that knife there. The small one with the blue handle, yeah.”

_No more than 15 dollars for it._

Bofur raised an eyebrow, “What-”

“25,” the man held out his hand for the cash.

“My cousin says he’ll take it for 15,” Bofur nervously adjusted his hat.

The dealer’s eye narrowed, “I said 25, didn’t I? You got a hearing problem?”

“No, no. 25 dollars is perfectly fine,” he handed over the cash, resisting the urge to wipe the smirk off the other fellow’s face.

 _I told you-_ Bifur began to sign angrily as they walked out, the rest of their purchases zipped into a large black duffel that was digging into Bofur’s shoulder.

“And I told you that I wanted to come out of this encounter alive,” Bofur shot back, “Let’s go. Bombur’ll be pissed if we don’t pick up the rest of the food on time. We’re supposed to be at this Bilbo’s house by tomorrow afternoon and it’s going to take that long to drive there.”

 _Could have gotten it cheaper_ , Bifur grumbled almost to himself, his hands halfheartedly forming the necessary words.

This was going to be a long trip.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next time I post a chapter, I will be condensing most of the intros of the characters down into one chapter, so if you come back to read the next chapter (which I hope you do!) don't panic, there's still going to be the same content. :)  
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments much appreciated.


	9. Flower Shop Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Gandalf have a strange meeting... and who is at the door?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while. Like a really long time. But seeing as I'm still getting comments on this, I thought I would try to return to it! Can't promise regular updates as I'm in graduate school now, but I've had some inspiration and I'm hoping it continues. Thanks to everyone who has commented, given kudos or bookmarked this fic in the last year, you're all awesome!  
> Short chapter, but more to come :D

The bell chimed over the shop door, alerting him to the presence of a newcomer.  
“Hello?” he called, wondering who would be so impolite as to enter just as he was closing up, “I’m sorry to inform you that you’ll have to come back tomorrow if you’d like some flowers. I was just about to lock the doors.”  
“No matter. I don’t much care for flowers anyway. No, I wanted to talk to you.”  
He knew that voice, “Ah, Gandalf! Come to sell me more of your excellent tea?”  
“I’m afraid not, my dear Bilbo. Come instead with some news.”  
“Ah, uh, alright?” the shop owner stepped from behind the counter, greeting his old friend with a firm handshake, “And what news would that be?”  
“I have an… adventure for you. Of sorts,” the gray haired man adjusted his fedora, letting the silvery scarf he always wore swing back and forth across the front of his bland colored suit jacket, “More of a request, really.”  
“Request?” Bilbo wiped his palms nervously on his pant legs, “First news, and now a request?”  
“It is of the utmost importance, my dear boy, that you listen carefully to what I have to say. I am in need of someone to assist me in a very sensitive project, and you are just the person I need,” Gandalf peered down at the shorter man from under the brim of his hat, a mysterious look in his eye.  
“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about,” Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest, “I am not the sort to go off on one of your little ‘missions’. I know what happens to people who do, Mr. Grey, and I don’t intend to become one of them.”  
“What happened to the fellow who talked about seeing the world? About exploring Europe and Japan, who always wanted to see the jungles of South America? Have you given up on those dreams?”  
“Would I be doing any of those things? Would I be able to dig my toes in the sand and drink a margarita? Don’t think so, Gandalf. I know what kind of world tours you give, and I am not looking to purchase a ticket. Now, if you don’t have anything to give me, I’d like to close up shop.”  
“To think, I’d be dismissed so callously by Belladonna Took’s son. As if I were simply selling tea at the door,” Gandalf gave him a disgruntled glare even as he turned towards the exit, looking deeply upset by the transition the conversation had taken.  
“You know I’m not trying to be rude Mr. Gray. I would just like to get home. It’s been a long day, and talk of adventures is not making it any better,” Bilbo rubbed the bridge of his nose as he dug the keys out of his pockets, “Please, follow me out. If you’d like, maybe you could come round for lunch tomorrow and we could talk more then.”  
“I think you shall see me sooner than you expect. And with a bit of company. No worries Bilbo, I know exactly what you need.” Gandalf said with a small smile and a tip of his hat, “Good day to you Mr. Baggins, and I hope you have a pleasant evening.”  
He was gone in the next instant. How he did that, Bilbo never knew, and had never wanted to. Well, maybe when he was younger. Certainly not now that he had a shop to run and a home to clean and himself to fend for.  
So many things to do. Like decide what to cook for dinner and throw a load of laundry in the wash and make sure that the dishwasher was run because he was almost out of forks again…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
Three hours later, the dishwasher and washing machine filled his home with a comforting hum. He’d decided on fish for dinner, had realized he’d forgotten to buy lemons the last time he was at the grocers and ran out to pick some up. When he’d gotten back with his arms full of goodies (he should have known better than to go shopping on an empty stomach), it was nearly dark and the perfect time to eat.  
He’d just finished setting up a beautiful plate when there came a knock at the door.  
He wondered, briefly, who in their right mind would ever visit him at his home, but then he remembered Lobelia and his heart sank into his stomach. He was too tired to deal with her today. Too tired to deal with anyone today.  
Instead, when he answered the door, a large man encased almost entirely in a dark hood was standing there, one eye gazing at him with a look of anger that nearly sent Bilbo scrambling back inside to lock the door behind him.  
“Uh, hi? Can I help you?”  
“He said it would be here, and that there would be food. I’m starving.”  
The man pushed his way into the house without another word, shrugging his coat off. To Bilbo’s utter surprise, half his face was made up of metal, with one glass eye staring off into the distance.  
He tried to be polite and not stare, but he thought he might have made a squeak of surprise because the large man glanced sideways at him with a look of utter contempt, “Where’s the food?”  
“Erm, right this way. Yes. Fish.” Bilbo robotically shut the door and made his way to the kitchen, pushing his plate towards an available chair, “Enjoy.”  
“Dwalin,” the metal man bowed stiffly before taking the seat, “At your service.”  
“Oh, uh, yes. Thanks?”  
He wasn’t sure if that was the right way to respond, but apparently it didn’t matter because the stranger had already dug into his meal and seemed to be enjoying it heartily. The fish was almost devoured and there had been a long fifteen minutes of silence before there was another knock on the door, louder this time.  
He met Dwalin’s eye. The man, with a mouth full of food, nodded in the direction of his entryway as if to say _well aren’t you going to get that?_  
Bilbo, who hadn’t yet decided if he was going to burrow into his bedroom for the night and let these strangers ransack the place, stood stiffly from his chair.  
He didn’t know who was behind the green wood of the door and he wasn’t entirely sure he cared. Either way, tonight was going to be an interesting night indeed.


	10. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strangers begin to arrive.

Somehow, someway, he’d been holding out hope that maybe this time the person behind the door would be someone he knew. A neighbor, maybe, explaining that  _ apologies, the strange man in your kitchen was actually intended to be my guest tonight.  _

Except instead of a friendly local familiar Hobbiton resident, he was greeted by a very well put together fellow, white hair perfectly groomed, three piece suit ironed and starched, gold cuff links and all. There was nothing out of place about this man, except the smear of ash just above his left eyebrow. 

“Can I help you?” Bilbo blurted, instinctively offering a hand for the gentleman to shake.

“Why yes, actually. Am I the first to arrive?” the stranger’s beard bobbed as he talked, neatly trimmed to a few inches below his chin.

“I’m sorry, I don’t-” First to arrive? To what? Had he gotten drunk and accidentally agreed to host a party again? When was the last time he’d gone down to the Prancing Pony-

“Hello, Balin,” the man from his kitchen, who was no longer in the kitchen but in the hallway, spoke hesitantly, “I know I was supposed to wait, but the bar was getting crowded…”

“For the love of Mahal, you oaf. I apologize from the bottom of my soul Mr. Baggins. I hope my brother didn’t scare you too much. He’s mostly harmless, you understand?” his tone was chagrined, upset, angry, and Bilbo couldn't for the life of him figure out why. 

“It’s been three years and that’s all you have to say?” Dwalin spoke from the shadows somewhere behind Bilbo, who was concerned at how easily he’d become a spectator of family drama within his own home. 

The older man, who by the way, was still standing outside on the front porch as if he had to be invited in before he could enter (which would have been a pleasant surprise, considering the way his brother had simply barged in), adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. When he glanced up from Bilbo’s sadly fraying welcome mat, his eyes had softened into the sort of aggrieved affection that reminded him of the way his father used to glance at his mother when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

“Mr. Baggins, there is much to be explained this night, and although it is a wonderful evening, I think it may rain later. May we take this inside?”

Bilbo’s strangled noise of disbelief must have sounded enough like an agreement to the guy, dude, fellow person probably named Balin because he stepped into the foyer as if he owned the place, hanging his expensive jacket on the hook second closest to the door. 

“While we wait for the others to arrive, we should have a drink. The traffic was terrible getting over here, I could use an ale,” Balin stared expectantly at his host, who was not quite sure he was in fact a host, but rather a  _ hostage _ . 

“There’s something in the fridge, I think, or possibly the pantry to the left of the stove…” Bilbo instructed as there came rather insistent knocking from the front door, “I would get it for you but-”

The doorbell chimed as if to punctuate his point, and Balin nodded his understanding, “Yes, yes of course we can manage to find it I’m sure.”

Luckily for Bilbo, he hadn’t taken more than three steps away from his door, so it took little to no effort to pull the handle and stare at the two boys who stood on a mat significantly more tired than it had been this morning. 

“What do you want?” it was rude, he knew, but so was showing up uninvited to a stranger’s house after dark, during dinner time. 

“You must be Mr. Boggins!” the dark haired one stepped forward, offering his hand. He was wearing two rings, one on his thumb, another on his middle finger. His long black leather jacket sleeves covered his wrists, leaving just enough space for Bilbo to catch the beginnings of a tattoo when he accepted the handshake. 

“I am not, actually-” Bilbo began, but he was interrupted by the blonde with dreads.

“Shit, is this the wrong house? I told you Kili-”

“No, no, it’s not. I mean, it is, but your friends seem to think this is where they were supposed to meet, unless they’re not your friends? And you’re just more random strangers who happen to think my home is an inn or some ridiculous prank is being played on me, or oh, bother. I’m sorry. I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

The two boys were staring at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. The blue eyed one fiddled with the buttonhole on his brown jacket, undone to show his tan t-shirt. His jeans scrunched into brown workboots, clearly worn past their prime. The other man bit his lip ring, almost black hair tied away from his face with a clasp, wisps hanging around his face as he shuffled his converse awkwardly. 

“So it hasn’t been cancelled?” the blonde tucked a dreadlock behind his ear, raising a pierced eyebrow, “I’m Fili, by the way. This is Kili, my brother. Balin was in here earlier, he can verify who we are if that’s what you need.”

“No, no, come in I suppose. How many more of you are there?”

Kili, or Fili, he wasn’t sure, shrugged as he entered, not bothering to respond as he passed by the coat racks without removing his leather jacket. And to his dismay, neither took their shoes off. 

“Dwalin!” one of them shouted as they rounded the corner to the kitchen, “It’s been ages!”

“Kili, Fili, you’ve grown at least another inch, I swear. Been over a year, has it?” the gruff voice told Bilbo it was Dwalin speaking, his mouth full of some food that he was most likely not supposed to be eating, “Too long.”

“Dwalin, you were overseas for three years. Certainly a bit longer than a year since you’ve seen them,” Balin, this time. 

Bilbo entered the room just in time to see Dwalin and the younger brother pair exchange glances. There was an awkward silence and then the gruff half metal man gave his brother a slanted smile. 

“I meant since we were last able to video call, Bal. My memory isn’t that bad as of yet. You kids want something to drink, eat? The others should be here shortly.”

As if on cue, there came a thump from the door. Not a knock, or the doorbell ringing, but a thud and then a creak as if there was someone leaning against the wood. 

“Just a moment!” Bilbo called, his heart in his throat. Four was plenty. Five was a bit much. He was trying to save his canned goods for this winter, when he wouldn’t have fresh food from his garden, but he might have to break out some of the soups just to feed everyone.

When he unlatched the handle this time, a large group of people fell through the entryway, shouting and laughing as they tumbled over one another. There were creative curses and grumbles as they got back to their feet, too many of them for Bilbo to count until they passed him in a whirlwind and he realized that there were twelve coats and cloaks and jackets all crammed in various spots in his foyer. 

And then there was Gandalf, still hanging up his hat while the rest of Bilbo’s unexpected company crowded into his living room, kitchen and pantries, moving chairs, setting up dinner, and generally wreaking havoc. 

“I should have known this was your doing,” he growled at the old man. 

Mr. Gray turned with a sparkle in his eye, “And whatever do you mean by that, my dear Bilbo?”


	11. Blunt the Knives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves make a mess of the kitchen... and there's something odd about their singing.

He had a speech prepared, he really did. He’d been thinking about it ever since Balin showed up. He hadn’t necessarily intended the recipient to be someone he knew, someone he knew  _ well _ , in fact, but it was nonetheless still true that there were strange men in his kitchen and he was furious. 

“We must talk about the fact that-” he began, lungs full of air, lips pursed, but before he could scold the older man, he realized that his grandfather’s chair was being moved from its proper resting place by the hearth in the second bedroom to the kitchen and that was certainly not acceptable. 

“Put that back!” he practically roared over the sound of the men greeting each other and exchanging tales, “That is Grandpa Mungo’s chair, we don’t move that. No, please, wait, put that back!

Before he knew what was happening, he’d lost himself in the turmoil of dinner, too concerned with his dishes and his food to bother himself with Gandalf. 

One of the younger members of the group was digging in his fridge, handing beverages out to everyone present. He protested weakly when the boy snagged a beer for himself. 

“Are you even old enough to drink that?” he snapped at Fili, or Kili, he wasn’t sure which, and they just raised an eyebrow as if to ask what he thought he was going to do about it. 

“Just be responsible-” he finally sputtered as someone bumbled past him with an entire cheese wheel and he nearly had a heart attack when he realized they’d managed to break into his second pantry, “Tad excessive, isn’t it? Oh for the love of- Gandalf!”

By the time he’d located the taller man, the rest of his company were settled down at the table, sharing his food amongst themselves. Someone had managed to turn on the stove and six different types of soups and pastas were being doled out, as well as more rolls from the oven than he knew he’d stored. He was going to have nothing canned, no preserved food leftover in the fridge-

“What in the world do you think you’re doing, just inviting people over to my home like this?! What gave you the idea that you had  _ any right _ -” and he reigned himself in, because he wants to be friends with this man, even after everything he’d done, “Mr. Gray, you are a dear companion, and have been to my family for as long as I can remember but there are thirteen men in my kitchen-”

“Twelve, actually,” Gandalf played absentmindedly with his long beard, “The thirteenth should be on his way.”

His skin crawled and he felt like he might be sick. Too many people. His home was big enough, but his mental capacity for dealing with other humans was not and he might just set his beloved Bag End alight to get rid of them all. 

“You can’t just… do that!”

“I believe I just did,” Gandalf nodded his head as if he thought his statement gave some kind of finality to the conversation, but Bilbo was not done with him yet. His skin was boiling, his temper rising to the surface and he didn’t think he could stand to be polite for another second.

“Get out. Get your… company, get their coats and their muddy boots, and get out. They can go to the Prancing Pony, or somewhere else in Bree, they did not have to come  _ here  _ of all places! I am not running a bed and breakfast, nor a motel and I expect that you all will be gone by the time I return from seeing what state my cold storage is in.”

He turned, fully intending to toss the other’s items out into the frigid spring night if they wouldn’t go on their own but then Gandalf placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and said, “Wait.”

And he did. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he stood and he listened.

“There is a tragic tale to this meeting, Bilbo. I could not do it justice myself. But I think if you stay, and you let yourself be open to their plight, you may realize you have much more in common with these people than you think.”

“I have absolutely nothing in common with them,” he said, gesturing angrily to the table where a food fight had broken out to prove his point, “They can finish their meal. Then they’re gone.”

This time, he walked away without interruption, making it to his pantry just in time for a chorus of shouting to erupt from the kitchen. He didn’t want to know. He really didn’t. 

By the time he finished taking inventory and made it back towards his unexpected party guests, at least a half hour had passed, if his wrist watch was anything to go by. They were still talking loudly, but it was a bit more subdued. What was that clattering? Were they cleaning? 

Oh no. No, he couldn’t let them do that, they didn’t know where anything went and if they broke his mother’s West Farthing pottery he was going to have a heart attack, right then and there. 

Sure enough, when he walked into the kitchen, they were already tossing things to each other, from one end of the room to the other. Someone had started a sink full of soapy water, and suds were flying everywhere. One of the men, he wasn’t sure what his name was, scraped the ends of the forks off with the side of a knife, making an awful sound. 

“Can you not do that?” he questioned, tone as dangerous as he dared make it with a room full of people who could likely pulverize him, “You’ll blunt them.”

“Did you hear that lads?” the dark haired fellow, Bifur? Maybe Bofur, or Balin, Bilbo wasn’t sure, “He says we’ll blunt the knives!”

The young dark haired one immediately tossed a plate higher than he had before, singing as he beaned it straight towards his brother, “Blunt the knives, bend the forks!”

“Smash the bottles and burn the corks!” the blonde bellowed, his expression morphing into something a mix between happiness and pure evil.

“Chip the glasses and break the plates!” other’s began to join in now, fully enjoying their little show tune.

“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!” They all shouted and yes, it was what Bilbo hated. So help him if any of them even looked like they were going to do any of the things they described-

They began to throw things in earnest, spoons and bowls and pans flying past his head to end up in the sink. They all were singing, and there was something about it that was just so… relaxing, and happy and wonderful that he found himself smiling along and humming even though he didn’t know the melody. They were smirking at him, all of them, but he didn’t mind. They were brilliant people, nevermind that he couldn’t remember their names, or what they were doing here, or why he had invited them, exactly. 

He somehow ended up on the other side of the kitchen by the time the song ended, closest to the entryway. There was a bemused smile caked onto his face and before he could even think of wiping it away there came another knock on the door. 

“He is here,” Gandalf said, his voice low, and Bilbo wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a more ominous thing in his life. 


End file.
